“I’m coming up,” Amon warned, taking hold of the ladder with both hands.

“I’m coming down,” Raisa said loudly, turning and feeling for the first rung with her extended foot.

“Just wait a minute, all right?” He disappeared from sight, but she could hear him moving around down there, see torchlight reflecting off the damp walls.

He reappeared at the foot of the ladder, looking up at her, a big smear of dirt on his right cheekbone. “It’s clear. A few rats is all. Come on down, but be careful.”

That was easier said than done. The rungs were far apart, difficult to manage by someone her size in the best of circumstances, nearly impossible in her dress. Her silk slippers gave her no purchase on the metal rungs. She hitched her skirt up above her knees, clutching it in one hand and holding on to the ladder with the other, wondering what kind of sight she presented to Amon below.

She was halfway down when she lost her single-handed grip on the slippery metal ladder, teetered a moment, arms flailing, then fell screaming through space.

She landed with a whump in Amon’s arms. He staggered back a few steps, and for a moment she thought they’d both go down, but he regained his balance and ended leaning against the wall, breathing hard, cradling her close against the damp wool of his uniform jacket. She could hear his heart hammering next to her ear.

“Hanalea’s bloody bones!” he swore, his face inches from hers, his gray eyes dark and roiled as the Indio Ocean in winter, his face chalk white. “Are you crazy, Raisa? Do you want to kill yourself?”

“Of course not,” she said fiercely, her fright making her snappish. “I just slipped is all. Put me down.”

But he seemed bent on lecturing her at close range. “You never listen. You always have to have your way, even if it means breaking your bloody neck.”

“I do not always have to have my way,” she said.

“Yeah? What about the time you just had to ride that flat-lander stallion? What was his name? Deathwish? Devilspawn? You had to climb the fence to mount him, and his back was so broad your legs stuck straight out, but nothing would do but you had to give him a try.” He snorted. “That was the world’s shortest ride.”

She’d forgotten about Amon’s annoying habit of repeating old stories she’d rather forget. Raisa struggled and kicked, trying to get free. He was definitely a lot stronger than she remembered. Even though she was smaller, she’d always been able to hold her own through force of personality, if nothing else.

“You never think about the mess you’d leave behind,” Amon said. “If you bust your head and I’m in any way involved, my da won’t leave enough of me for the crows to find.”